


Wine and dine me

by newtmasdoesthedo



Series: Well, except Newt. He calls me Tommy. [13]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sex, but no actual sex, this was so fun to do, two extremely shitty and horrible original characters only there for plot purposes, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtmasdoesthedo/pseuds/newtmasdoesthedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt is on a date with one of the most horrible people on the surface of the Earth. Hiding in a broom closet is the only possible solution. It just so happens that there's an extremely attractive brunet hiding in the same closet and steadily working his way through a bottle of red while he's waiting for <i>his</i> horrible date to leave. Maybe letting Minho set you up is a mistake they've both made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine and dine me

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was prompted by the lovely [i-open-at-the-closure](http://i-open-at-the-closure.tumblr.com) of tumblr, who is a total sweetheart that you should definitely check out, by the way.
> 
> 2\. “Your OTP aren’t together and on a date with different people at the same place. After learning they particularly dislike—or are absolutely repulsed by—their respective dates, the two somehow end up hiding in the same cramped supply closet in hopes of avoiding their current date. Bonus if they start fighting over who got there first”
> 
> 3\. Betaed by the wonderful [5secondsofnewtmas](http://5secondsofnewtmas.tumblr.com) who is a major sweetheart for catching all my slip-ups. I love yooouuu!
> 
> 4\. I did consider making some of the characters we know their dates but I couldn't make myself do it seeing as no Gladers are horrible enough to fit the prompt.

Thomas was going to violently murder Minho when he got away from here. The guy in front of him had proven to be a republican and a dirtbag, which for some people was two sides of the same coin. Thomas would have been willing to give him a chance if he hadn’t also been a huge dick who talked about nothing but his fancy job, his fancy car and his fancy watch all night.  
This had to be a prank, because Minho couldn’t possibly have thought that Thomas would enjoy a night in the company of this asshole. Which meant that he’d completely zoned out while swirling his wine in his glass, absentmindedly watching as the curtains of wine slid down over the glass.  
“- and I mean, it’s hardly my responsibility to save people from every disease know to man, see if I care-”

“Oookay, you have to excuse me,” Thomas cut him off, standing up so abruptly that his chair toppled over behind him. Thomas didn’t even bother looking after it as he reached in and took the bottle on the table, leaving before the idiot could say anything about it.  
He slipped past two waiters and moved towards the restrooms.  
He only had about five minutes to himself of course, before Doucheface McDickwad came in, calling his name. He drew up his feet and took a long sip as quietly as he possibly could. After a while the asswipe left and Thomas took another long sip. At least he was feeling the wine affecting him a bit. It took him a couple of minutes deciding on what to do, but fortunately he had the wine keeping him company.

 

“Okay. Okay,” he muttered to himself, beyond caring if there were other people in there. He took another swig. It was a bit trashy, but then again, he’d just had to sit through one of the most horrendous conversations in his entire life. “Maybe I can…” he zoned out a bit. He couldn’t get out of the restaurant without being seen by McDickwad, which meant that he’d have to wait him out. They were four floors off the ground, and Thomas valued his life too much to try to crawl out the window, although it seemed more and more appealing for every swig. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head to clear his throat. Better not stay in here in case the pull from the open window became too much. Instead he stuck his head out the doorway and looked around. At least McDickwad wasn’t waiting right outside.

 

Thomas inched a few steps closer to the opening of the narrow hallway he’d walked through and peeked into the restaurant. Damn it. McDickwad was waiting at their table. Or, maybe waiting was a bit generous, seeing as he was on his phone, gesturing violently. He was probably making some obscure sort of deal at the expense of dying children or something. Thomas grumbled to himself and stepped back out of sight. Okay, so there was no way out of here without McDickwad seeing him, which meant that he’d have to wait it out. He glanced at the bottle, sad to realize that it was almost empty. At least McDickwad had had more of it than he did, which meant that his next action didn’t exactly make him feel guilty. “Hey, excuse me, can you get me another bottle of this on that table? You can charge extra if you don’t tell him or ask questions. He won’t question it,” Thomas stated, stepping back out to point to the back of the douchebag. The young waiter’s eyes widened just a bit, but he nodded silently and disappeared. Thomas rubbed his forehead tiredly. This evening was a living hell, and he really couldn’t grasp why Minho had decided to do this to him.

 

He muttered a soft thanks to the waiter when he reappeared, sliding back down the hallway and making another turn than last time, sort of random and without even thinking about it. 

 

He found himself in a broom closet. He took a couple of seconds to look around and shrugged. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. After getting to this conclusion he sat down on the floor and took a swig of the open bottle. He’d probably have to wait a while, the guy seemed like he wasn’t about to go anywhere soon. Maybe he actually thought the date was going well and that he’d get lucky tonight? Thomas made a face at the thought.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
When Minho had offered Newt to match him with a colleague, Newt had been a bit hesitant. Minho wasn’t really the relationship type, and he didn’t usually bother with other people’s romantic fantasies either. He and Newt had had a very limited number of conversations on love and what it meant to them, because Newt had soon realized that Minho didn’t care much for that kind of stuff. Newt had hinted that Minho might be aromantic, but his friend had just laughed and said that he saw no need for such labels, that he just wanted to have a good time and fuck whoever took his fancy. That had been the end of that, because Minho wasn’t exactly the guy you sat down and talked about your feelings with.

 

So of course Newt had been a bit suspicious. He’d also been intrigued, though, because Minho had promised him that this “Max” person was exactly his type except for some small details.

 

He hadn’t expected those small details to be a pair of tits and the lack of a penis. Naturally, Newt was pissed, but it wasn’t this girl’s fault that Minho had deliberately ignored the fact that Newt was gayer than a gay unicorn sprouting bloody rainbows out of its ass.

 

Max, or Maxime, as she was actually called, was… well, even if she’d been equipped with Newt’s choice of parts she would still not have been his type. She wasn’t particularly intelligent – and that was him being nice. She was mostly bland, actually, until she started bitching. And when she did, there was no shutting her down, no matter how much Newt tried hinting that he was actually friends with Minho and Brenda. “I don’t even get why Minho would try to set me up, I mean, he hated me ever since I asked him if he’d fucked our boss for his position, and I mean, we all know that Mr. Brookes likes Asians although I personally don’t really get that, I mean, I’m just not into it, too,” she made a vague hand-gesture, and Newt’s lack of attraction to her rapidly turned into pure, sour dislike. He was going to strangle Minho, no doubt.

 

And seriously reconsider their friendship, he decided, as the girl droned on and on about every race of people she’d never date. How on Earth had Minho decided that this was a good idea? What had Newt ever done to him? “Look, Max,” he tried, but she just raised her voice ever so slightly and kept talking over him. Rude.

 

He decided on taking a long swig of red wine before cutting out a small piece of his steak and popping it into his mouth. Maxime obviously didn’t require his attention anyway. He focused on tuning her out, obviously not getting a chance to tell her that she was making him uncomfortable by trash-talking people he’d already told her was his friends, and focused on the food. At least that was pleasurable, in stark contrast to this whole debacle.

 

He only managed a couple of bites, though, before a sharp fingernail was flicking him on the nose, making him flinch back with sudden fear. “What was that for?!” he growled, unable to keep his cool any longer. He’d wanted to roll his eyes at her since the moment she started this whole thing, and now she’d invaded his personal space in the rudest of ways. He was done playing nice.

  
“You weren’t listening.”

 

“Neither were you when I tried to tell you to stop speaking ill of my bloody friends,” he growled, steeling himself for the – frankly – harsh comment he was about to make. At the very last moment he thought better of it, though. “You’ll have to excuse me, I need to use the loo,” and with that he slipped away.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Of course Newt didn’t have to pee. He didn’t even want to go to the toilet. Public toilets had always freaked him out. So instead he just turned at a random door, and he was a bit surprised at what he found.

 

Not that a broom closet was that surprising in itself, it was just that a broom closet with a hot stranger halfway through a bottle of wine was a bit odd. As if this date hadn’t been the weirdest one in his life already.

 

“I can… uh, I can go if this… uh. If this closet is occupied,” he muttered, unsure of how to handle this situation, because honestly he had no precedents for situations like this one. He’d never found a hot stranger hiding in the closet at a restaurant after having excused himself from the worst date ever before.

 

The tipsy hottie looked up and shook his head. “You can’t be much worse than the guy I’m hiding from. Is it ironic to be hiding from a guy in the closet only a year after coming out of the… well,” he made a movement towards the room they were currently in, and Newt had to admit to himself, the guy’s hand came a bit too close to his junk for his liking. It was a pretty tight fit, having both of them in here when the hottie was tipsy and didn’t seem to be able to control his hand-movements. Newt made a snap decision and sat down.

 

That was a good decision, because it gave him the chance to take in the bloke’s face, and what a face it was.

 

“I should probably ask your name before asking you about your night,” Newt stated, a bit absent-minded really, because he was busy studying the bloke’s face and that was more interesting than basically Newt’s entire night.

 

The guy’s skin was tan, at least more than Newt’s own was, and it was dotted with moles and a soft trail of freckles over his nose. And that wasn’t even the best part. The bloke raised his eyes, looking into Newt’s with a crooked smile.

 

“My name’s Thomas,”

 

“Uh huh,” was all Newt managed, because amber eyes were staring into his, and Newt had to take a few deep breaths before managing to clear his head. “I didn’t catch that, what?” and yeah, he did have the decency to look as ashamed of himself as he felt, because really, not even listening when the guy introduced himself was kind of rude, but he was just _so pretty_.

 

“Thomas,” the bloke laughed, “My name is Thomas. Are you tipsy too?”

 

His straight-forwardness made Newt blink with surprise. “Uh, no. I’m not. Not nearly enough that I could stand staying out there at least,”

 

“Bad date?” tipsy hottie – _Thomas_ , Newt reminded himself, _his name is Thomas_ , asked, making a sympathetic face and holding the wine bottle out to him. Newt eyed it suspiciously. Getting drunk with a stranger inside a closet while hiding from the worst date ever was definitely a new low. Then again, this Thomas guy _was_ awfully good-looking. He shrugged and reached for the bottle, taking a swig before muttering his thanks and then getting back to the question.

 

“You could say that,” he snorted bitterly, running a hand through his hair and sneaking another look at Thomas. “I’m 99 % sure she’s a major bigot. What about you? You were hiding from someone? Another bad date?”

 

Thomas made a sour face and nodded. “Yeah, and my friend even set me up with this douchebag. He’s so fixated on money and he keeps hinting that he doesn’t even care about people who are sick,”

 

At Newt’s questioning glance Thomas straightened up a bit. He seemed to remember that Newt had no idea who his date was or what he was talking about. “He works with my friend. They work for this fancy medicine firm. I forget what it’s called. Anyway, they develop medicine, and this dude…” he groaned and reached for the bottle, “Don’t even get me started,” he ended up sighing before sullenly taking a swig of the bottle that Newt had obediently handed back to him.

 

Newt made a sympathetic face. “I understand. I don’t think the girl I’m here with realizes I’m gay. It was actually my friend who set me up with his colleague too. He’s also in medicine. Seems like people in medicine are genuinely pricks,” he laughed, and Thomas joined in. Newt decided that he liked Thomas’ laughter. A lot.

 

“So, two queers hiding in a closet. I bet there are a shitload of jokes starting like that,” Thomas mused, and Newt couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled over his lips. This guy might be a stranger, but he was a damn attractive one, and contrary to the hellish woman sitting out at his table, Thomas had a sort of easy charm about him that Newt couldn’t help liking, even if he hadn’t made the best first impression. Then again, the description he’d given of his date sort of merited hiding in a closet and drinking wine, so Newt could actually understand how he’d been driven here. Besides, he obviously wasn’t one to judge, seeing as he was currently partaking in both the hiding and the drinking.

 

“I bet,” he agreed, leaning back against the wall of the tiny room and studying Thomas’ face, “Tell me about yourself, Tommy,” the nickname slipped out before he could even help himself, and fortunately the dim light of the room covered up his blush – at least that’s what he hoped, “Distract me from the hell that is my life,” he added drily, hoping to mask the fact that he’d already nicknamed this odd, attractive stranger.

 

Of course he wasn’t that lucky, because the bloke looked at him for a long time, his lips quirking up just a bit before he took another swig of the bottle and passed it back. “Tommy, I like that,” he said, voice slightly distant, and a small, cheeky part of Newt’s brain noted that he’d look great with his hair mussed up and that look on his face because he’d just been thoroughly shagged. He blinked and took the bottle, taking a healthy sip before putting it on the floor between them. He’d have to limit his alcohol intake if he was going to talk to this ridiculously attractive oddball without saying something stupid. Luckily Thomas started talking.

 

“I still live with my mother,” Thomas paused, visibly gauging Newt’s reaction, and the blond took care to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

 

_Oh no, don’t be a loser, please don’t be a loser. Don’t be a grown man and live with your mother._

When Thomas seemed to find nothing that indicated that Newt would laugh at him, he continued, “I’m 23, and I probably shouldn’t be sharing this kind of personal stuff already, but I’m living there because my mom’s sick. She’s been for as long as I can remember, and she can’t afford someone to look after her, so I do it. It’s not because I’m some pathetic mommy’s boy who can’t do anything on my own, she… she just needs me.”

 

Newt nodded silently. He didn’t know what to say to that, but there was an overwhelming urge to reach over and pet Thomas’ cheek. If it was the wine or the sudden shift in the otherwise playful guy’s demeanor, he didn’t know, but he found himself wanting to know more about him. “What kind of illness does she have? If you don’t mind telling me. We can talk about something else too if you like,” he offered, his natural instinct to take care of everyone effectively taking over. There was some odd comfort in shifting the focus off of himself and dealing with everyone else’s stuff, and it was a defense mechanism Newt had always used.

 

Thomas shrugged, grimacing, “I’d rather not, my night has been crappy enough already. It was supposed to be a sort of get-away. Kind of a pathetic try, right?” he laughed, and he shifted back to the carefree guy Newt had walked in on so quickly Newt was pretty certain he could get whiplash from it. That was probably not healthy, but then again, that wasn’t really his business. “I study engineering, the spot as my best friend is pretty much up for grabs right now seeing as Minho decided to be such a prick. Obviously my love-life lacks some-“

 

“Wait, _what_ did you just say?!” Newt blurted. He didn’t want to be rude, but this couldn’t be true. “Did you say Minho?” he knew that his voice was sharp, and it seemed to shake Thomas from his tipsy listing of everything that sucked in his life. Which was probably a good thing, because Newt really hadn’t been meaning to get the guy feeling all down.

 

“Uh. Yes. Why?” Thomas frowned, looking adorably confused, and Newt was distracted from his anger for a short second, because seriously, this guy looked like a puppy and Newt didn’t know what he was supposed to do with that apart from lean over and kiss him, and they’d just met, so he couldn’t exactly do that.

 

“Minho is the one who set me up too,” Newt growled, eyes flashing slightly, because _seriously Minho?!_

 

Thomas stared at him, still not caught up by the looks of it. “I don’t understand.”

 

Newt sighed, rubbing his forehead. “The idiot set us up on horrible dates in the hopes that we’d meet each other. Did he set the time for you as well?”

  
Thomas nodded slowly, realization visibly dawning on his face. “Well, I was here first,”

 

Newt blinked. “A what now?”

 

The brunet crossed his arms over his chest. “I was here first. Leave. He’s not getting his way and this is my closet now. I’ll hide on my own.”

 

Newt spluttered. “You-! I-! That’s ridiculous, Tommy! You’re not throwing me out of the closet!”  
  
Thomas moved to a kneeling position in front of Newt, thus bringing his head higher than Newt’s, gaining a height advantage that wouldn’t have seemed nearly as ridiculous if the bloke hadn’t been swaying slightly because of the alcohol in his system. He’d either drank a lot before he got in here, or he was a serious lightweight. Newt wasn’t about to ask about that right now though, because Thomas was talking again, and his words were so ridiculous Newt actually found himself growing annoyed. “I am! I’m throwing you out of the closet. I’m outing you!” the triumphant tone that showed that Thomas was proud of his ridiculous pun was the last drop.

 

He had to roll his eyes at the other guy. “You know what, I’m not surprised you’re friends with Minho, you’re as ridiculous as he is,” he snorted, rising to his knees as well, and for a couple of very, very long seconds they were staring each other in the eyes, both breathing heavily, eyes narrowing more and more, before something clicked inside Newt. “Oh fuck it,” he muttered, leaning in close and hovering for just a couple of seconds to give the tipsy Thomas a chance to move away (he didn’t seem drunk enough that Newt didn’t think he had the wherewithal to reject Newt if he honestly didn’t want to kiss him) before crashing their lips together in a fierce, determined kiss. If nothing else, that could make Thomas shut up. At least that’s what he told himself.

 

He also told himself that he’d deserved this kiss. He deserved the hot, chapped lips on his, he deserved the eager, angry fingers tugging on his hair, just on the right side of painful, and he deserved the growl-turned-whimper that Thomas breathed into his mouth. The brunet tasted of white wine and passion and Newt was pretty certain this was the best kiss he’d ever had. Teeth were nipping at his lower lip, and he barely kept himself from moaning into Thomas’ mouth when the brunet pulled him even closer, aligning their bodies and spreading his lips in silent invitation for Newt’s tongue to enter.

 

If it was the kiss or the muttered, “Holy shit you’re so fucking hot,” under Thomas’ breath that did it, Newt didn’t know, and he didn’t much care, because this entire situation had gone right to his crotch, and he’d soon have a very potent problem if he didn’t get a grip. So he steeled himself and slowly broke the kiss.

 

“Same to you, Tommy, but maybe this isn’t the place for… whatever this is supposed to be,” he stated, raising an eyebrow, and when Thomas reached after the wine bottle, Newt snatched it up right in front of him. “No way. I want you to invite me on a date right now, and I want you sober,”

 

Thomas seemed a bit miffed that he was robbed of his wine, judging by his pout, but he seemed to decide that something else mattered more. He still hadn’t let go of Newt’s hair, and now he was running his fingers through the blond locks while glancing at his lips thoughtfully, “One thing, though,”

 

Newt raised an eyebrow although Thomas wasn’t exactly paying attention to that area of his face at all. “Do tell.”

 

“We’re both on a date right now. Not with each other, I might ask. And I just threatened to kick you out of here. What makes you think that a date is a good idea?”

  
Newt snorted, then frowned. “Do you not want to?”

 

Thomas mimicked the snort, and then a burst of that carefree laughter followed. “Do I seem like I don’t want to go on a date with you?” he asked, fingers trailing from the nape of Newt’s neck around to his jaw, cupping at slightly. He leaned in a nipped at Newt’s lower lip softly, and it was too good, almost enough to make Newt forget about decency and screw the bloke right then and there, but he managed a small, displeased groan.

 

“You’ll have to stop doing that. My date’s horrendous, yours is too, how about we tell them?”

 

Thomas wrinkled his nose. “Maybe we’ll tell yours and I’ll leave mine. I put this bottle on his tab.”

 

This time it was Newt’s turn to laugh, and he shook his head softly. “Remind me not to trust you as far as I can throw you, Tommy,”

 

The brunet just beamed at him and shrugged before getting up (surprisingly with no difficulty at all – Newt mentally reassessed his earlier assumption that Thomas was a lightweight) and stuck out his hand for Newt to grab. He pulled the blond up from the floor with an ease that Newt appreciated a bit more than he’d like to admit. “Ready?”  
  
Thomas nodded. “Ready.”  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Where the fuck have you been?” her voice could’ve cut through steel, and Newt was pretty thankful Thomas was holding his hand right now.

 

“I’m gay, Maxime, and if I’m honest, I’m starting to think that Minho didn’t send me on this hellish date to tease me, but to tease you. You’re appalling. I’ve tried to be polite with you, I tried telling you several times that those were my friends you were commenting on. You’ve made a deal of one of my best friend’s race, his sexuality and basically everything that could possibly mark you as the bigot you are, so I’m going to leave with this guy now. Goodbye.”

 

Maxime was left gaping after the two of them as they walked out, Thomas having the audacity to wave coyly at his former date with the tips of his fingers before Newt managed to pull him all the way out of the restaurant. “I’m getting the sense that you’re a little shit, Tommy.”

 

“That an insult?”

 

Newt smirked. “Not even close.”

 

Thomas pulled on his hand softly. “Hey,”

 

A quick flash of worry that Thomas had changed his mind shot through Newt. He turned around, soft frown on his face, but it dissolved quickly at the mischievous smile on Thomas’ lips. “Hey, Tommy,”

 

The brunet stepped in closer, his voice the softest of whispers when he leaned in, “Let’s not tell Minho that we went on a date,”

 

Newt wasn’t keen on talking about Minho now, though, so instead he just rolled his eyes softly and closed the distance between their lips, pleased with how this horrendous night had turned extremely promising at the blink of an eye.


End file.
